A Case Of The Mirages
by evaschon1793
Summary: A series of Rat Patrol mini-fics centered around writing prompts given to me by fans.
1. Serious Doubts

Moffitt squinted up at the sun, tracking its course along the desert sky.

Tully sat beside him, jeep's steering wheel in hand, staring at the dunes piled up in front of the two of them.

Hitch and Troy were nowhere to be seen. They'd gone off on some half-cocked scheme to capture Dietrich. Left them behind as lookouts. Tully reflected on the fact that they'd never managed to catch him before. Same as him to being able to keep a handle on them for more than a few hours.

Moffitt shifted in his seat. The sun was almost down. It had been almost up when Troy and Hitch left them.

"Do you think they've gotten themselves killed?" Moffitt asked Tully. He wasn't really serious.

"I seriously doubt that," Tully said right away, his voice quiet as usual. And serious.

They'd just have to wait it out.


	2. A Mundane Event Gone Horribly Wrong

Another day, another German convoy.

Troy waved his hand and skidded down the hill toward Hitch's jeep, ready to hop in.

Tully and Hitch tore the dust covers off the .50 cals.

Moffitt readjusted his goggles and readied his weapon.

The jeeps bounded out toward the convoy, revealing themselves from the sand dune they'd been hiding behind. Sandy grit forced its way into Tully's mouth, just like it always did, and he didn't bother spitting it out. More would take its place soon enough if he did.

Moffitt tapped his shoulder. He looked up for an instant.

The jeep's front left wheel slammed into a large, mostly hidden rock. Tully and Moffitt slammed forward, falling out of the jeep, bruised, if not bloody.

Tully scrambled to get up, assess the damage, rejoin the fight. Hitch and Sarge couldn't hold them off forever.

A German bullet bit into his back.


	3. White Light Flaring

White light flashed into Moffitt's eyes, despite them being closed. He jolted awake.

The room he was in was shadowy, dark. Except for the bright, too bright light directly in front of him.

Where-where-? Then he remembered. His mission to retrieve important documents from the Germans' North African headquarters. Being captured. Knocked out. And now...now he was in a strange room. Interrogation, he was willing to bet.

He blinked, keeping his eyes away from the light as much as possible.

Stories of agents going blind from interrogation lights haunted him.

But when he closed his eyes, a hand hit him. Hard.

"You will keep your eyes open! No deception!"

He kept his eyes open, but met their questions with deception at every turn.


	4. The Great Bubblegum Idea

"Maybe we could use some of my bubblegum to plug the hole," Hitch said, spitting out the wad he was currently chewing. He offered it to Tully, who sighed.

There was a hole in the gas line, maybe a bullet, maybe just the natural elements. Hitch was pretty sure it was a bullet, since they'd just returned from yet another raid on German HQ. That's why Tully didn't have his usual tools with him – they'd gotten lost along the wild ride.

"I'm serious, guys," he said. Moffitt smiled a little, but shook his head. Troy wasn't even listening – too busy surveying the desert for any signs of pursuit – and Tully seemed to be ignoring him. "Fine. I'll do it, if nobody else wants to."

Tully shifted away from the jeep, just a little bit, and Hitch knelt down and plugged up the hole with what he thought was a pretty good style. It was a good piece of gum, but he didn't mind giving it up if it meant they all got home in one piece.

Two miles on, gas started spurting out of the line again. Hitch's gum was nowhere to be seen.

Tully rolled his eyes. "You and your great ideas."


	5. Out With The New, In With The Old

Tully's jeep lurched and banged into Allied HQ – but only because Tully wasn't the one driving it.

Moffitt winced as Peterson jammed the brakes on, hard, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. His tailbone jarred against the hard leather seat and he nearly yelled at Peterson. That bitten back urge had come to him a hundred times as well. He clenched his jaw and consoled himself with the thought that they were at HQ, he could get out and walk away. As long as his spine was still intact.

Hitch and Troy were already in Commander Boggs' tent, but Peterson had managed to get lost along the way and they were fifteen minutes late as it was.

"That's good enough, Peterson," Moffitt said, preparing to hop out. Gingerly, of course.

Just then, Hitch and Troy emerged from the tent. Followed by someone who could only be...Tully?

"I'll just take it from here, Sarge," Tully said, sauntering up to him.

"We've got a new mission," Troy said. "Let's shake it!"

Peterson scrambled out of the driver's seat, and Tully slid in. Moments later, both jeeps were rattling away in a cloud of dust. All Moffitt could do was sit back, revel in the smoothness of Tully's driving, and wonder,_ "What just happened?"_


	6. Fake It

Troy slammed his fist into the wall.

They'd been in tight spots before, but this one rivaled most of the others.

Tully and Hitch already spirited away to a POW camp who knew where, Moffitt in for interrogation, and his turn coming up next. A mission gone wrong, Dietrich right on their heels, and the SS involved. Yeah, it was pretty bad. The cell he and Moffitt shared – or used to share, at least – was small and cold and hard.

He was used to being confident, able to figure out a way of escape, ready with a joke at the expense of his interrogators. But Dietrich had finally run out of patience, gotten the SS into the mix, and he couldn't think of a single bright side. No smart remarks, no tricks, nothing.

Whatever confidence he'd had when they'd first been captured was mostly gone now.

If he didn't have confidence in himself, in his men, they were all dead. Maybe not in body, but in spirit.

The cell door rattled, and an SS guard stepped inside, grabbing him by the arm. There was no sign of Moffitt anywhere. Troy went with the guard – he had little choice, unless he wanted to make things harder for himself – and thought all the way to the interrogation room about his will to fight.

He didn't have it in him. At least not completely. So he'd have to do the next best thing. Fake it.


	7. Good News, Bad News

"Hey, Hitchcock!"

Hitch looked around him for the source of the shout. Running pell-mell toward him was another private, Dobbs, who he'd talked to a couple of times. Dobbs waved a piece of paper over his head. "There's a letter come for you!" he shouted, coming closer. "Lucky your group's still here," he added in a normal tone as he reached Hitch.

Excitement filled him and he grabbed the letter, for once not thinking about manners. He never got any letters. Mom had never quite forgiven him for joining up, and she'd never once written him. Tully got letters from his mom every time he came to base. Troy got official mail, but it was still mail. And Moffitt's dad, mom, and kid brother wrote to him once every few months. But Hitch had never gotten anything. Until now.

Sure enough, it was from his mom.

"Dear Mark, I have good news for you..."

After just a few moments of scanning the letter, he balled it up and tossed it on the ground. "That was GOOD news?!" he nearly yelled across the desert. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Troy and Tully coming up towards him.

"What's the matter?" Tully asked.

Hitch shook his head, angry at his mother and frustrated with the world in general. "I got a letter from Mom." Before either of them could say anything about how he'd wished for that very thing and what news she'd written and was thinking of getting a few days leave to go see her, he said, "She's getting married again. I've been in the army for over a year and the only time she writes is to tell me she's getting married to some creep?!" His voice rose with every word.

He'd never understand her.


	8. Colour Of A Void

Dietrich stared up at the star-studded night sky.

Twelve men lost today. Twelve more letters he'd have to write to grieving families who'd never see their brother or uncle or son again. Twelve more weights on his already heavy conscience.

At times like these, times when the Rat Patrol had once again taken everything – or nearly everything – from him, the only way to occupy his mind was the stars. He knew astronomy, could point out the different constellations, but it wasn't the scientific side to the stars that gripped his mind.

Space. Vast, empty, cold. A yawning void. But not black, like so many people thought.

No, it was all different colours, shade upon shade, light on dark. Picking out the different textures, depths, and patterns gave him something to do in the night hours when he couldn't sleep. When his mind refused to shut down, instead choosing to replay all the day's failures...and then more. It was better then turning to endless rounds of beer and other alcohol like so many men in his unit had done.

There was no harm in the sky. In that way, it was the very opposite of this senseless, tiring war.


	9. Cairo & Pyramids

Being stationed in Cairo was the best thing that could possibly happen, in Moffitt's opinion, even if it was only temporary. Hitch and Troy were off somewhere, all of them on unofficial leave, since they'd been given no new mission as of yet, and Tully had decided to stick with Moffitt.

He appreciated Tully's staying with him, since it gave him someone to discuss all the different sights, sounds, and smells that came with the territory. After reading his father's book on anthropology, Tully had devoured several other tomes on archeology and North African history, which meant he probably understood everything better than Hitch or Troy would've.

Tully trailed behind him as they strolled through a noisy bazzar full of everything anyone could want in a home-spun Cairo market. Figurines, shawls, fruit, and hundreds of different trinkets loaded the shelves down. Moffitt didn't buy anything, simply because his father's study was filled with such items.

He kept up a running commentary as they walked, with Tully occasionally adding his two cents.

A tour guide stood a few feet away, shouting at the top of his lungs with a heavily-accented voice, "SEE THE GREAT PYRAMIDS, THE PRIDE OF EGYPT! I WILL TAKE YOU THERE MYSELF ON MY MOST EXCELLENT CAMELS. A GREAT BARGAIN."

Moffitt stopped short. "What do you think, Tully?" he asked, gesturing to the guide.

"Isn't that a bit like going AWOL?"

Moffitt smiled and shrugged. "We'll be back in plenty of time."

They went.


	10. Homemade Coffee

"This looks terrible, Hitch."

Troy stared dubiously at the cup full of coffee Hitch had just handed him. Flakes of coffee beans had floated to the surface, the smell was unappetizing to say the least, and the coffee itself was a weak colour. Almost like dirty dishwater.

"Aw, come on, Sarge. You've never tried any of my coffee, and it's good."

Looking up from the coffee, Troy glanced over at Moffitt, who raised his hands.

"Don't look at me," he said. "I told you to try some tea."

Tea. Water and some flavouring. Probably worse than Hitch's coffee, although right now he wasn't sure.

"You like it, Tully," Hitch said. Tully just shrugged.

Joking aside, Troy really, really didn't want to try the coffee. He was sure he'd throw it right back up or something like that. But Hitch had asked him to try at least a sip and it didn't seem right to give it a miss without first trying it – no matter how certain he was of the taste – so shook his head and took a sip.

And it was actually pretty good.

Hitch grinned at the look of surprise on his face. "Just like home."


	11. Unexpected Music

Dietrich paced back and forth inside his tent.

The reports coming in were not good. Rommel's forces had been beaten back yet again, and Dietrich and his men had been assigned to cover the retreating army's flank. It was a dangerous assignment, one that would leave many of his men dead on the sand. If not himself.

The pacing was a result of his worry. Worry over the coming skirmishes, the dead and wounded, the fact that one small error of judgement on his part could get countless men killed. His men were loyal to both him and the cause of driving the Allies out of North Africa, which made his job both easier and harder.

Easier because they'd follow him into whatever he decided.

Harder because he knew each man personally, some of them would die, and he didn't want to think about it. But it was time to go to war, and he couldn't shy away from his duty. He stopped pacing, and slumped into a chair near the tent door. A few moments of quiet and reflection before going outside and giving orders.

From outside the tent, strains of 'Lili Marlene' played.

One of the men had gotten bored, tired, or lonely and found the song on the radio – not a hard thing. A lump formed in Dietrich's throat, but he swallowed it down. Now wasn't the time to soften up, break down. He had a job to do.

But for now, for a few moments, he'd enjoy the music.


	12. Sunset

"...he just wants his crummy knife back."

Their little conversation had been over an hour ago, and now Tully was worried.

No, 'worried' wasn't the right word. It was more restlessness, boredom, and a need to see Troy and Moffitt returning. But not worry. He almost never worried, it was something he'd worked hard to cure himself of, since doing it never helped anything or anybody.

The sun was going down, slanting shadows across the desert sand.

Cool air drifted into the still desert, a welcome reprieve from the glaring heat of the day. Or, at least it would've been welcome if it wasn't for the fact that the colder it got, the closer he and Hitch were to being spiked at the end of an Arab's spear.

But, no, he wouldn't worry.


	13. Shared Treats & A Letter

"Just got back from the post office," Tully said, ambling up to Hitch and Moffitt. Troy was still at the PX, arguing with some corporal about the price of candy bars. Tully had just rolled his eyes and left after a couple minutes of that. In his mind, it wasn't really worth fighting about.

"Hey, you got a package!" Hitch said, grinning. Moffitt looked to be about as happy.

Tully put the package he carried on the hood of the jeep and slid the German bayonet he'd picked up awhile back out of its sheath to cut the string that held the wrappings together. It was from his mom, and from the size and rattling of the package, he was pretty sure what was inside.

Sure enough, there was a letter sitting neatly on top of a bed of cookies. Or what had used to be cookies. Most of them had fragmented into large crumbs, but there were a couple of whole ones among the mix. Chocolate chip and oatmeal. His favorite.

"Help yourself," he said to Hitch and Moffitt, taking the letter and dusting off the crumbs. The real treat for him was news from home. Just before he started reading, he wondered if he should tell them to save any for Troy, but then shrugged off the idea. If he knew Troy, he'd come back with ten candy bars for the price and five and he definitely wouldn't need anything else.

Now for the letter.


	14. An Unexpected Friend

Dietrich and the dog bonded over the days after the ammo dump's explosion.

The dog – he never really figured out a name for it – was there after his commanding officer threatened to send Dietrich down in the ranks, ship him off to the Russian front, and any other number of terrible things. Including a visit from the Gestapo to make sure his loyalties weren't waning.

Of course they weren't. He'd never go over to the Allied side.

The dog was there during the long, cold nights when nightmares haunted him.

The dog was there when his men needed a morale boost.

And the dog was there when he got a letter saying his father had died.

All in all, the dog was a better friend than most people he'd come across.


	15. Loyalty

"It is the third time in two weeks that the Rat Patrol have managed to elude you, Captain!" Steiner shouted, bringing his fist down on the desk. Dietrich repressed an urge to wince, thankful that there was a sturdy oak desk between himself and his superior.

"You question my techniques, sir?" he asked.

Steiner rose from his seat, face red. "No, Dietrich. I question your loyalty."

Dietrich stood firm, unwilling to let Steiner see just how hard his words had hit.

After a few more moments of shouting and a barely-veiled threat over the report he would send to Berlin, Steiner dismissed him with a sharp salute and a "Heil Hitler!" Dietrich left the office, walking down the corridors back to the outside where his men were waiting, Steiner's accusation rankling in his mind.

He shook his head.

The man had no idea what loyalty was.

Loyalty wasn't being the first one to scream "Heil Hitler!" or raise one's hand in the required Nazi salute or accusing everyone in sight to prove _something_ to one's superiors. Loyalty wasn't looking out for oneself, doing whatever possible to stay safe at the expense of everyone else.

Loyalty was following orders, even if you didn't always agree with them, because if everyone started disobeying their commanding officers, they would be overrun. Loyalty was sticking with your men, at the risk of your own life, making sure they were safe. Loyalty was doing what was best for your country, not the madman running it.

Just not everyone saw it the same way.


	16. Moonshine, Not Horses

Tully pushed back his helmet and winced.

Everything hurt.

Not from any enemy bullet or explosion, but from the animal, the horse he'd ridden nearly all day yesterday. Moffitt, Troy, and Hitch had ridden as well - part of their disguise against reconnaissance planes - but no one seemed to be experiencing his level of discomfort.

Gingerly, he sat up, working his upper body up from the blanket spread over the sand he'd curled up in overnight. He missed the leathery comfort of the jeeps. Wincing with every movement, he looked around him. Everyone looked normal, not even close to being in as much pain as he was.

Hitch was brewing coffee, eyes squinting against the rising sun.

Moffitt was going through his usual morning exercises - stretching his arms and back and jogging around in the sand, his boots sending up puffs of dust.

Tully limped over to the fire.

"What happened to you?" Troy asked, glancing up at him. So did Hitch.

Tully pointed a thumb back behind him.

"The horses?" Troy said.

"I thought Kentucky was the horse capitol of the world," Hitch said, and handed Tully a tin mug of coffee.

Tully sat down beside Troy, lowering himself carefully into a sitting position to minimize the after-effects of yesterday's wild ride. "I ran moonshine," he said shortly. He wasn't in the mood for conversation. "Not horses." He took a swallow of the coffee and appreciated the way its heat spread through him, relaxing stiff joints and muscles.

In a few moments, he'd drained the last dregs from the cup, and placed it beside Troy. "Thanks," he said to Hitch and then left the fire's side to join Moffitt. Sure, it'd be painful, but if he let himself stiffen up anymore, the coming night would be unbearable. As it was, nothing would be exactly comfortable for a long time.


	17. Fata Morgana

All Moffitt could think of was his thirst, and the sun beating down, and the sand all around them. And, above all, the few swallows of water swishing around in Troy's broken canteen.

He swallowed hard. The North African desert was nothing new to him. Sand swirled around with every breath of wind, and the sun shone as always, but his mind kept playing tricks on him and everything seemed fuzzy. He was accustomed to thirst as well, of course, but it had been a long time since it had plagued him to such a degree. They'd walked eight, maybe nine miles, and already Tully had fallen twice. Nobody else was doing well either.

"Sarge!" he heard Hitch – who was a little behind him – shout. "What's that?"

At first, Moffitt could see nothing, but when he traced his steps back to where Hitch stood, he saw it.

A building, no, a town, sitting right in the middle of the desert. Hitch was saying that if it was a mirage, it was the clearest mirage he'd ever seen, when Moffitt said, "_Fata morgana._" Everyone looked at him. "Latin. A 'fairy' mirage." Even as he spoke, the image off in the distance wavered a little, and then regained stability.

Troy turned and trudged on. In a few moments, they were all on the move again, Moffitt taking up the task of helping Tully stay on his feet. Hitch kept glancing back at the phenomenon, until it disappeared suddenly, and without any apparent reason. "Too bad that thing wasn't real," Hitch said. "We could've gotten some water there."

But it hadn't been on their charts. Just like the water hole.


End file.
